


Something So Real Doesn't Disappear

by whispered_story



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Christmas, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispered_story/pseuds/whispered_story
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a month of not talking to each other, Sam and Dean start spending time together again – until Sam asks Dean to come to the office party with him. [reposted, first posted on livejournal 29/9/2010]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something So Real Doesn't Disappear

"Do I know you?" 

Sam asked Dean that once, the first day they met on the elevator, and Dean said no. He said no and acted casual, indifferent, and pretended his stomach wasn't suddenly twisting with a feeling he didn't know. Didn't _want_ to know. 

He didn't tell Sam about it, not then and not now. Now, after everything. After they started talking, after they killed a ghost together, after Sam all but asked Dean to leave with him and Dean shot him down. And Sam stayed. Dean thinks that has to mean something, but he doesn't try to figure out what. Figuring out would make Dean think about things he's not ready for. Not yet.

Sam once said he didn't know who he was. Dean doesn't either, but he thinks maybe he's starting to work it out.

~

After Dean tells Sam to leave, goes back to his life as if nothing happened, they don't talk for almost a month. They cross paths sometimes and nod at each other awkwardly.

And then one day they're in the elevator together, just the two of them, and Sam clears his throat, shifting until Dean looks his way.

"There, uh, there's this new place down the street that I've been meaning to check out," Sam says. "The food is supposed to be really good."

"Yeah?"

Sam nods. "They have salads, too," he says, and Dean's lips twitch into a smile.

"Yeah, I heard about it, too. Sounds like a nice place."

"It does. I think I might go there for lunch tomorrow." Sam sounds more determined now, looking at Dean.

"I might, too," Dean says, and Sam smiles.

Lunch together becomes a regular thing after that. First it happens only occasionally, when one of them calls the other up before their break, and then Sam starts coming to Dean's office once a week, twice, until they're spending almost every lunch break together. 

"He's a friend," Dean would say if someone ever asked him about Sam. Nobody ever does, and Dean is kind of glad. The words sound like a lie even when Dean's just saying them in his head, silently, with no one around.

~

"The Christmas party is next week," Sam says between two bites of fried rice, and Dean will hold Sam responsible for the weight he's sure to gain any day now. "I was thinking maybe you'd want to go with me?"

Dean shrugs. "I hate office parties," he replies, and pops another piece of sesame chicken into his mouth. 

"Right," Sam says. His smile is a little brittle, his voice quiet.

Dean thinks he seriously hates dieting as he brings a forkful of rice to his mouth. This food is _amazing_ and Dean is going to enjoy it before he starts hating himself for eating it in a couple of minutes.

~

Sam doesn't come for lunch the next day. Or the day after that. He stays away the whole next week, too.

On Wednesday, Dean goes down to Tech Support and asks for Sam.

"Sorry, he's on his lunch break," the guy working in the cubicle next to Sam's says. "Maybe I can help you?"

"No. No, that's okay," Dean says, and smiles politely. "Can you just tell him Dean Smith was looking for him?"

"Sure," the guy nods.

When Sam doesn't drop by Dean's office that afternoon, doesn't call, Dean tells himself Sam's colleague just forgot to give Sam Dean's message.

~

Before Sam Dean never gave it much thought, but Dean doesn't really know who Dean Smith is. But with Sam around he never cared. With Sam he was just Dean and that was enough.

Now, without Sam constantly there, smiling and talking and convincing Dean to eat greasy food and go for a beer, he feels like he's nobody.

~

That Friday, the office is different. People laugh more, linger in the hallways to chat, hum Christmas songs under their breath.

Dean wonders if Sam is this excited. Sam doesn't seem like the kind of guy who likes office parties, who gets overly cheerful around Christmas. But maybe he is. Because if Sam doesn't know who he is, then how can Dean possibly know him?

"Are you coming to the party tonight?" John Hanley asks when they're both in the break room, getting coffee. John Hanley has the office adjacent to Dean's and he's loud and takes more breaks than he works and Dean kind of hates him.

No, I'm not, Dean wants to say. Sam is. Sam is going and he'll probably be there with people from Tech Support, enjoying himself while Dean is alone in his apartment. Because Dean didn't want to go when Sam asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm going," he says.

~

Sam is easy to spot because he's taller than most people at the office. Dean thinks he'd spot Sam even if he wasn't.

He approaches Sam carefully, making his way past people who he thinks must be co-workers, because they're here, even if he's never seen them. Dean likes to keep to himself. Sue him. And considering how many of the people here tonight are wearing Santa hats, _grown-up people_ , Dean thinks he's in the right.

Sam catches his eyes as he comes nearer, a look of surprise passing over his face. Dean smiles weakly, nods his head in greeting. Sam wanted him here, asked him to come last week, and Dean hopes that hasn't changed. 

Sam lifts his hand in a wave before turning to the group of people he's with, saying something before turning back to Dean and striding towards him.

"I thought you didn't want to come."

"I hate office parties," Dean says, repeating his words, but he suddenly feels like they're important. Like he needs to make sure Sam knows that that's the reason why Dean didn't want to come.

"Okay," Sam says, and smiles. He leans a little closer. "I don't really like them either."

"Oh," Dean says, and something warm settles in the pit of his stomach. Sam grins.

There's a moment of awkward silence and then Dean clears his throat. "So, now that I'm here, what do you do at an office party?"

"Drink?" Sam suggests. "Most people come for the free drinks and food. And because they think they'll miss out on something and then they can't gossip about everyone on Monday."

"Gossip about what?"

Sam waves his hand around. "You know, who made an idiot of themselves getting drunk out of their mind. Who slept together. Who wore the most inappropriate dress."

Dean snorts. "Sounds like fun," he mutters.

Sam laughs. "I know, right? So you've honestly never been to a party like this?"

"I told you I don't like office parties."

"Okay," Sam says again. "How about we get a beer? They have punch, too, but it's pretty vile."

Dean considers it for a moment, looking around at people who already act drunk even if it's still early. Dean has had nothing but water and coffee since Sam stopped coming for lunch and he really thinks he could use a beer, unhealthy as it might be. He nods.

They stay together the whole night, holed up in a corner of the room, Sam pointing out people and telling Dean stories about them. Mostly it's about how they're too stupid to work a printer, or how their computer froze on some porn site and when Sam came to fix it, they stuttered and told him they had no idea how it got there.

"Ugh," Sam says suddenly, turning his back to the crowd.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Goldstein and his wife are right over there."

"Yeah. What about them?"

"He's sleeping with his secretary," Sam says. "I walked in on them once. And he's hated me ever since. It's not like I was happy about having to see that. Believe me, some things you just _don't_ wanna see."

"God," Dean says. Goldstein is short and fat and his wife is kind of mousy, the type of person who you don't even take notice of, and his secretary is a tall blonde who forgets to tell Mr. Goldstein that Dean called every single time. She's good-looking, Dean supposes, at least everyone seems to think so. 

"She's got legs up to here, man," John Haley once said, leering at her in the hallway. Dean thinks her legs have nothing on Sam's.

"I don't want to be that guy," Dean blurts out.

"What?" Sam asks, startled, and looks at Dean, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. "Goldstein? Or the guy that sleeps with his secretary?"

"The guy everyone at the office talks about. Because he's sleeping with someone from work."

"You're not sleeping with someone from work," Sam says, but he looks understanding, a small smile on his face.

"No. But, you know, if I do."

Sam nods, scratches the back of his neck and then takes Dean's arm. "Come on, let's go, talk about this somewhere else. Party's pretty boring anyway," he says, dragging Dean out and Dean really doesn't mind leaving this place. A group of people is starting to sing 'Silent Night' and Dean fears soon the whole room will be joining in. First and only office party Dean ever went to.

"Nobody has to know," Sam says as Dean drives them home. He's glad he only had one beer, because god knows he wouldn't want to have this conversation in a cab.

"No?"

"Of course not. They'll think we're just two guys who hang out together," Sam says and suddenly Dean feels nervous, his hands sweaty where he grips the wheel, because it's out there now, the fact that this is about them and something's going to happen. _They're_ going to happen. "They do that already, anyway. Nobody'll think anything of it, Dean. It'll be just between us."

Dean breathes out, glances at Sam, and nods. "Okay," he says.

~

Dean's not sure what he expected, probably didn't expect anything at all because he never let himself think about this, about having Sam in his bed, in detail. But it certainly wasn't this.

Sam's on top of him, kissing him, rutting against him. He's heavy, body larger than Dean's, and Dean's not sure where to put his hands, because Sam is all sleek muscles and soft skin and no curves.

"I've never done this. With a guy," Dean says, when Sam uncaps the lube. He thinks Sam knows this, but he says it anyway. 

He might not have expected anything, but he thinks maybe Sam does. Maybe Sam expects things that Dean won't be able to deliver. He's good at research, good with numbers, good at his job. He's not so sure how good he is at this, feels completely out of depth.

"Okay," Sam just says, voice soft and a smile on his face. He leans down and kisses Dean again.

The first press of fingers is weird. There's a pinch of pain and the slightly uncomfortable feeling of having something inside of you that doesn't belong there. But then Sam hums into his mouth, the vibration making Dean's lips tingle, and kisses him deeper, dirtier, and Dean forgets all about what Sam is doing with his finger because what Sam is doing with his tongue is nothing short of spectacular.

There's a second finger, and a third, and Sam is right there, lips swallowing the sounds Dean makes and their hips sliding together and fuck, it feels good then. It feels good enough that Dean wants to come like this, cock trapped between the slick heat of their bodies and Sam's fucking him with his fingers and Dean never thought it could feel like this.

"You still good?" Sam asks when he pulls away, pulls out of Dean.

"Yeah," Dean says, and he's panting a little, his whole body on fire and his dick so damn hard.

Sam gives him a lopsided grin, leaning down for one more short kiss, Dean straining up to meet him halfway.

"God, you have no idea how bad I wanna be inside you," Sam says, breathless and Dean thinks he does. He wants Sam more than he's ever wanted anyone else, wants every last inch of Sam to be his and it's intoxicating, overwhelming.

He rethinks that only moments later, the head of Sam's cock pressing against is entrance and pushing in. It hurts. Sam's cock much bigger than just Sam's fingers and this time there are no lips on his to distract him. Sam's hovering over him, propped up on one hand, the other firmly on Dean's hip, as he pushes in inch by inch and god, if this is gay sex, then Dean knows why there are more straight men than gay ones.

"Relax," Sam says when he's all the way in.

"Easy for you to say," Dean snaps, his voice a little breathless. "You're not the one with something up your ass."

"I promise it gets better," Sam says.

"Reassuring."

Sam actually cracks a smile, lowering his head and kissing Dean briefly, and Dean takes a deep breath, trying to relax his muscles.

Sam pulls out and drives back in, slow at first, eyes on Dean making sure he's okay every time Sam pushes in. Dean feels full, stretched, and it's still uncomfortable, but the pain ebbs away slowly and Dean feels the first tingles of pleasure. And then Sam hits that spot, that spot that he brushed with his fingers, but now it feels ten times more amazing and Dean gasps.

"Sam," he rasps.

Sam echoes with a moaned, "Yeah," and fucks Dean harder, faster, their bodies moving together and skin slapping against skin. Dean feels like he can't breathe, like everything has narrowed down to the feeling of Sam's cock inside of them, each slide in sending sparks of pleasure through Dean's body that make Dean shudder and gasps. 

Dean reaches between them, hand wrapping around his cock tightly, and jerks himself off.

Sam makes a choked off sound, whispers what Dean thinks might be _close_ , and shifts them a little, both hands going to Dean's hips, fingers digging into skin hard enough to leave bruises. He starts slamming into Dean with hard thrusts, the headboard banging against the wall behind Dean's head and Jesus, Dean takes back everything he thought before. He arches off the bed, into his hand slick with precome, into Sam's thrusts, and moans.

"Dean," Sam says in a strangled voice. He leans over Dean, folding Dean almost in half, and buries his face in Dean's neck. Dean feels the sharp pain of teeth sinking into his shoulder, feels Sam shudder, his movements stuttering, and Dean comes. 

He doesn't move again until his leg starts going numb, pinned to the mattress by Sam's weight, and he starts to feel itchy from the cooled sweat and come on his skin.

Sam props himself up, pulling out of Dean with a noise that Dean thinks should be gross. Sam flops down next to him, arm going around Dean's chest, leg between Dean's and Dean turns toward him.

"We can shower tomorrow," Sam says and Dean doesn't protest. Doesn't care about anything but the fact that Sam is right there and he just had sex with him. _Dean_ had sex with a guy and nothing in his life is even close to being comparable to how it felt to have Sam inside of him.

They struggle to get under the covers, Sam laughing softly in his ear until they finally manage to tug the sheets over their bodies and Dean switches off the lamp on the nightstand. He leans in to kiss Sam in the dark, fingers trailing down Sam's spine.

For the first time since Dean can remember, he thinks he knows exactly who he is and where he belongs.


End file.
